Ch. 8: The Girl With Pink Hair

The medic knelt beside the girl, fingers pressed gently against her neck, checking for a pulse.

"Her vitals are fine," he finally announced. "She's alive. Perfectly stable."

A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd of soldiers and medics gathered around the unconscious girl with long, pink hair. She lay silently on a makeshift stretcher, her pale skin untouched by dust or damage, her expression peaceful.

"How could she be alive in there… inside that thing?" someone whispered.

"Maybe she got trapped inside the whale," a soldier suggested.

"Or maybe it swallowed her whole. It is a machine. Who knows what it’s capable of?"

None of the theories made sense. The idea of a living person surviving inside a war machine—one responsible for the death of dozens—seemed impossible. Yet here she was.

Conrad stood nearby, arms crossed, watching with a thoughtful frown.

As speculation mounted, Leo arrived at the scene, still catching his breath from his sudden flight. Carolin landed beside him moments later.

“What’s going on?” Leo asked, pushing through the crowd to get a better look.

One of the soldiers turned to him. “They found a girl. Inside the whale.”

Leo stepped closer, his eyes widening the moment he saw her.

“…It’s her,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “I’ve seen her before.”

Carolin’s head snapped in his direction. “You’ve seen her? Where?”

Leo hesitated. “Not… exactly in person. I've been having these dreams. Strange ones. In them, I see people in white lab coats, like researchers or scientists. And among them, there’s always this one person… with long pink hair.”

He looked at the unconscious girl again, eyes filled with uncertainty. “I’m not saying it’s definitely her… but it feels the same. The hair, the face—something about her just… matches.”

The surrounding soldiers listened intently. Someone asked, “Did those dreams show anything else? Something that explains why she was in the whale?”

Leo shook his head. “Not really. Just images. Blurry ones. I barely remember anything clear. It’s like memories that aren’t mine.”

Skepticism hung in the air. A few exchanged doubtful glances. Conrad remained silent for a moment, then finally spoke.

“She was found alive inside a war machine. That alone makes her suspicious. But we’re not killing her for that.”

He looked at the medic. “Stabilize her. When we get back to the Containment Zone, put her under close surveillance. We'll question her when she wakes up.”

The crowd slowly dispersed as Conrad issued cleanup orders. The aftermath of the battle stretched far across the ruined city. Bodies lay beneath collapsed towers and in the streets, some buried under debris, others burned beyond recognition.

A somber mood settled as teams were dispatched to recover the fallen. Special units were designated to carry out corpse identification and disposal. Those whose identities couldn’t be confirmed were respectfully cremated near the outer rim.

Meanwhile, the civilians and non-combatants who had fled earlier through the underground tunnels began to return—cautiously, uncertain of what they’d find.

Their fears were confirmed. Many had lost loved ones in the attack.

Leo, silent among the mourners, watched as stretcher after stretcher returned. His heart heavy, his thoughts restless.

The girl from the whale had been moved into a reinforced cell inside the medical wing. Though still unconscious, she was monitored 24/7 by armed guards and medical personnel. Scans showed no sign of injuries or internal damage. She was, by all accounts, perfectly healthy.

And yet—she remained asleep. Silent. Unmoving.

The question that now loomed over everyone was not just who she was…

…but what she was.

Days passed.

The Containment Zone gradually returned to a state of routine. Repairs were underway, the wounded were tended to, and the dead were honored. People moved on—outwardly, at least—but a quiet, lingering fear still clung to the air.

The memory of the colossal whale's attack, of buildings crumbling and comrades lost, had left a scar that wouldn't heal easily. No one said it out loud, but the question echoed in everyone’s mind: Could it happen again?

In a secured interrogation room lit by a soft overhead glow, Leo sat across from Saylin—one of the head intelligence officers. Her presence was calm, collected, but her eyes were always sharply observant.

“Tell me what happened that day,” she said, fingers laced together. “When you destroyed the whale. Can you… recreate that? Could you do it again?”

Leo leaned back slightly, letting out a quiet breath. “I don’t know.”

Saylin waited, encouraging him with silence.

“I was ready to die,” Leo continued. “When the whale charged its beam toward me… I accepted it. I thought it was over. But then, as the building collapsed and I fell—I felt something. Like… a rush of energy through my veins. It wasn’t something I did. It happened on its own. My instinct just kicked in.”

Saylin’s expression remained thoughtful. “An instinct to survive?”

“Maybe,” Leo nodded. “But it was more than that. My body moved without me. I don’t remember choosing to fly, or attack. I was watching it all happen… like a passenger inside myself.”

Saylin tapped her finger on the table lightly. “There’s more to you than we know, Leo. Maybe it was a survival instinct, or maybe something deeper is locked within you. Whatever it is, I want you to report if it ever happens again.”

With that, the interrogation ended.

Later, as Leo walked through the quiet corridors back to his assigned quarters, he found Carolin waiting outside his door. Her arms were crossed, her usual composed demeanor softened by something more reflective.

He stopped in front of her. “Do you want something?”

She looked up at him. “How are you feeling now?”

“I’m alright,” he replied. “You?”

“I’m fine.” She hesitated, then added, “Actually… I wanted to show you something.”

Leo blinked. “What is it?”

Without another word, Carolin gently took his hand. “Come with me.”

She led him through the winding metal corridors of the zone, then out into the open—toward a quiet cliffside beyond the outer wall. The sky stretched wide above them, painted in fading orange and purple hues. The wind was cool, rustling through the sparse trees that had managed to grow amidst the ruins.

“This place,” Carolin said quietly, “used to be a garden. My parents brought me here when I was little. It’s mostly dead now, but… it still feels like them.”

She let go of his hand, stepping forward and looking out over the cityscape below.

Then, her voice lowered. “Do you miss your old world? I’m guessing yes. It was probably… safer. More peaceful. Not like this.”

She turned slightly toward him. “Do you miss your parents? Your family? Friends?”

Leo looked at the ground, his expression turning heavy. “…I don’t remember them.”

Carolin’s eyes widened slightly.

“I can’t recall their faces. Or their names. It’s like they’re fading… bit by bit.” His voice lowered. “The more time I spend here, the blurrier it all becomes. I’m slowly forgetting everything.”

Carolin’s expression softened. “That must be painful… forgetting the people you loved.”

Leo didn’t respond, only nodding faintly.

She stepped closer to him. “If you ever need to talk… or if there’s something weighing on you—you can come to me. I mean that.”

Carolin gave him a quiet, sincere look—serious, kind, and unwavering.

The two stood in silence as the wind whispered around them, caught between a past slipping away and a future filled with questions.